After a tough first week back in Toronto (why do I always think I’ve got ahold of the transition?) I am moving into the end of the second week, beginning of the third, with a much more elated heart. In some ways I would prefer not to admit that so overtly, but I suppose I should admit some good things, sometimes.
Today David Suzuki spoke to a group of us up on the rooftop patio of the UofT’s Sustainability Office (which is, if you didn’t know, within the Exam Centre – top floor). He was in his blue jeans and blue sleeved shirt, and tinted glasses. The beard was as ever. The talk began with everyone introducing themselves – everyone was very impressive, which meant that I adopted a defensive inner attitude, despite my complete awareness and acceptance of my relative “inadequacy”. This was a result of the feeling that I had done nothing significant to help the environment in several, several months. Which was true. Between work and the LSAT, I was simply indulging in books and beautiful words.
Perhaps at around the halfway point, David Suzuki, while answering a student’s question, declared that in terms of his work in environmentalist, he was “a complete failure.” That declaration should’ve jolted me, but I think my awareness was too taken by the sheer vulnerability of his answer to truly consider exactly what he was saying. But at the end, he launched into a memory of his grandchildren. He told us how his daughter and her husband had moved into the family house, so the Suzukis could help raise their newborn twins. When the twins were around five months old, Suzuki held them and started weeping. His daughter and his wife quickly snatched the babies away (there was a chuckle at that) and wondered what was wrong? What was wrong, was the future these children would never have. “I feel so much shame for what we [his generation] have done.” His tone was completely changed by then. There was no longer a hint of a joke at this idea of failure. He brought his arms to his knees – back bent, head low.
After the talk, most of the students stayed on the patio to chat with each other. The empathy was palpable. I don’t think I had a lot of my defensiveness left. We didn’t receive a lot of concrete answers, but we witnessed a sharing of soul. This was a poetic event at the end of it all.
After biking to Almond Butterfly for a bagel and eating it fondly in Trinity’s Quad, I returned to my room to continue studying. At 6PM, I rushed out of my room and grabbed my bike. In the Quad, I bumped into a Chinese family. The father was an engineer of some sort. He was very adamant about my future, told me to dream “the big dream!” We exited at the same time, and as I propelled myself on the bike, he left me with one last “jia you!” Do you see how hard it is sometimes to deviate away from the well-meaning expectations of Chinese parents? It’s something bigger than all of us, even though it’s ultimately an illusion.
Downtown Toronto is not very bike friendly. But I made it to the Waterfront after a detour through Nathan Phillips Square, where a celebration of Mexican Independence was happening. I think there was some sort of Bachelor’s Auction happening on the main stage. The Waterfront was less illuminated than I hoped for. You forget how tall the buildings really are. I ate my apple with some birds watching me. A boat sped past with an energetic, young couple dancing and a driver who looked like he could not give less of a shit. A little water/foam splashed on my clothes. I biked back home, the sun setting dark. Ate some, studied some, picked up my violin. A week ago I felt so lonely I couldn’t fall asleep. Life moves on like waves and it’s probably best not to hang on too seriously at any point.
